Envisage
by A Cucumber
Summary: Abigale Dean has been granted with a special knowledge. This knowledge is now wanted by some of the most influential men in the Caribbean, but can escaping from one only lead her to yet another? But the most important question is... can fate be changed?
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:**

This fanfiction was written by _two _people and therefore there is no sole one person to be credited for it [it might also explain any differences ;D. Both of us have access to this account and therefore both can read the reviews and such.

All Pirates of the Caribbean characters/places/etc belong to Disney, the producers, writers, etc... We take no credit aside from the OOC characters.

Also, fear not! Some more of your beloved characters will enter in the following chapters. x3

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Abigale looked sternly at her feet. Her slender figure was pushed up against a cold, hard, stone wall. It was plainly obvious that she wasn't enjoying this in the slightest. But who would enjoy being thrown into jail for no apparent reason? That was Abigale's situation at this very moment. What she had done to deserve this kind of treatment far surpassed her knowledge. 

An irritable sigh escaped her lips as her brown wavy hair was pushed back behind her shoulders impatiently. Her feet were placed together neatly, and her dress was rather neat. Of course this didn't include the dirt marks on her dress, all because of those stern guards that literally threw her into this dump. She didn't believe this was how a woman should be treated.

Her head directed itself to the roof, her blue eyes shifting around the stones for any sign of something loose. She knew this was useless, considering that there would probably another three meters of dirt and rubbles atop of that. Well... it went something like that anyway. It wasn't like there were any possible ways of escaping though; a small window at the side and a small hard wooden seat. Oh joy, just what the doctor ordered.

"What to do...?" She questioned herself, her hand venturing to her chin and rubbing it as she got up from the wall and peered through the large bars covering the tiny, pitiful excuse for a window. Her hands now made their way to the bars and held on to them. She shook them slightly, to no avail. She shook them again more furiously, alas she was just making herself weaker.

Abigale turned on her heel and quickly sat down on the small wooden seat, a frown apparent on her pale face. Her arms quickly folded and her leg crossed over the other. There was no use of trying to escape. How could a woman like her escape a guarded area like this anyway? That was just against all odds to be perfectly honest. Although, as she slipped into thought, she became unaware of the monstrosity that was slowly making his way toward the jail.

'The Monstrosity's' polished shoes tapped along the cobblestone with every regal step he took toward the jailhouse, his gaze as expressionless as ever, despite the constant thoughts, plots and plans making their way through his mind. Lord Beckett had finally managed to find her, the girl that had the 'key', well, that was as far as he had managed to go in working out this whole situation at least. He had no idea if it was a literal key or a figurative key, but it did not matter. He had her, and that was that. Beckett was a manipulator, and, truthfully, no better than a pirate (of course Beckett would never ever lower himself to true piracy, but, nevertheless, the mentality was still eerily similar), he would do anything to get what he wanted or to prevent others from gaining what _they _desired. This particular situation could prove to be either, he had yet to speak to the imprisoned woman, but who was to say that she even knew as much as he did?

Apparently he had not been paying much mind to where he was walking because, before he knew it, the irritatingly blinding sunlight was replaced with a welcoming cool darkness as he stepped into the jailhouse. It was rather cool in here he noted, due to the stone walls, of course. Not that one would usually care about the fact that they were saved from the beating sun, owing to their circumstances if they just so happened to be unluckily enough to be residing in the jailhouse.

Abigale heard the footsteps approaching her cell and gathered that it would be best to stand up and at least look at whomever was coming to greet her... and then demand that they let her go! Beckett, on the other hand, had other ideas. Giving a curt nod to the man already guarding the cell, apparently instructing him to leave (an order the navy officer gladly complied with), Beckett turned to face the pretty woman leaning against the stone wall of the cell, the never faltering stoniness still evident on his pale features.

Abigale simply tapped her foot impatiently on the rock hard floor, the grey colouring that tarnished it boring her. This wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't as if she could get out of this difficult situation, but she knew that she dearly wanted to, no matter what she would try. She lowered her head sadly, maybe in shame for getting caught too, but who knew. Abigale knew what this was about now; it wasn't often that the main man in charge of this place came to see anyone personally. She was rather surprised at how he searched everywhere to find her. It wasn't the easiest thing to do. Nobody else had been able to do so after all.

She wandered over toward the bars that were in front of her and wrapped her delicate fingers onto two of them, glaring at this nicely dressed male. He was _definitely_ higher up, his clothes proved this. She didn't know _exactly _who he was, and she definitely didn't know why he would want to know this secret that she had. Or even how he had heard of it in the first place...

"Your business with me, 'sir'?", she said nicely to him, although straining the 'sir' part, almost spitting it out of her pinkish lips. Her hands detached themselves from the bars, leading onto her chest so her arms were crossed again. She wanted to know his reasoning behind this capture. There had to be more to it than the normal eye could tell. She wanted to get out of here, although she would try her best not to tell him about her burden. She looked at him with an air of demand, although she knew this probably wasn't the best emotion to show toward this man. She could already tell that he thought highly of himself.

Despite this demanding manner that Abigale maintained, Beckett's impassiveness did not falter. It had always been surprising to most that the man could maintain such an imperial and monotonous air at all times. Of course, the monotony was generally broken by his piercing gaze, as that appeared to be what made up for his somewhat short stature. He was lucky, really, to have found Abigale so easily. Well, he hadn't found her specifically; he had other people to do that for him. He was also lucky to have gotten a hold of her before she managed to get roped in with any of the pirates or, of course, be captured by them. Currently, she might be being forced to sit on the floor of a cold, filthy and dank cell, but it certainly wasn't as bad as the being shoved into the brig of a filthy pirate ship.

Abigale's gaze remained on Beckett as he apparently wandered off into thought. She could see that this one would be different. He seemed to know a lot, just by looking at him she could tell that he had gone through a lot and picked up an awful amount of knowledge in doing so. That being said, her technique of annoying the hell out of the other person still had the ability to hold up here.

"Business," He then repeated calmly, interrupting the silence that had fallen momentarily. "There are many ways this particular conversation could go; I trust that you choose the right route. Which leads me to my first enquiry; do you know why you have been brought here?" He didn't expect her to tell the truth, he wasn't idiotic enough to believe every word she said, because ignorance would most likely be the end of him and he wasn't planning on dying any time soon.

Abigale huffed, turning on her heel, she walked toward the window. Beckett, sensing that he wasn't about to get an answer, continued to watch her as she turned her back on him. She definitely wouldn't talk that easily. Twirling her hair slightly she looked out the window. It was rather bright, and the rays of sun warmed the cool breeze that taunted her through the barred window. She opened her mouth and yawned, placing her hand over her mouth as she did so. She may not be in a perfect state right this moment, but she still had manners. Beckett observed the young woman for a moment as the thin lines of light filtering through the barred window illuminated Abigale – she certainly was attractive, there was no denying that. But by this time in his life Beckett had realised that beauty didn't ever encumber one's intelligence or even their dishonesty. He had met enough women that were both untrustworthy and too clever for their own good to underestimate Abigale. Especially considering he was intent on getting some answers from her.

But then Abigale turned back around to face him once more. "Many ways, you say?". She didn't know there were 'many', as he said, but at least two came to mind. "Hmm..." She thought to herself, patting her chin in a boring manner, like this was just a time-waster to her. "I am not sure on what you speak of, sir." She replied, bringing her arms down to her side again.

Abigale had purposefully tried to avoid his previous query [Beckett took immediate note of this, but this was just a small side part to her big plan. Yes. Of course Abigale had a plan, she always had a plan. Even if she hadn't completely thought of one... it was still there, she just needed to find the major plots and details of them!

"You just so happened to choose the wrong path, Miss Dean." He paused for a second, before continuing, "You realise that it would be much easier for the both of us if you chose to answer my reasonable question, rather than dismissing it, do you not?" It was now Abigale's turn to smirk at his words, even if he didn't show true signs of doing so. She knew exactly how he would counter attack toward her, and he had just confirmed her thoughts on doing what she expected. He was interested in her vast knowledge on a certain subject that not-so-many people knew of. No doubt about that, considering he pushed on the fact that he wanted to know if she knew why she was in this god forsaken smut.

The young woman yawned yet again; this man was boring her to death for some reason. Just the way he talked and such, how he used people to get what he wanted. This wasn't a good trait in people, to Abigale it certainly wasn't anyway.

"Hrmm..." She thought to herself again before looking back to the window. Whenever she thought, she seemed to look toward something of inspiration. The sun glaring in through the window was the only thing that appealed to her in the slightest here, so it was rather hard to find any proper words to counter attack Beckett. Beckett, on the other hand, simply found this odd and slightly irritating although he didn't question it. He would much rather hear what she had to say than to insist she answer a completely pointless enquiry regarding her habits.

She quickly turned back and waltzed to the bars, her own arms behind her back this time. It was almost like she was copying him, yet she wouldn't stoop _that _low. That was child's play, this was no child matter.

"The wrong choice? Oh, I do apologise kind sir, but I believe that it wouldn't matter either way." She stated. Her debate was definitely worth it... It seemed as though she had come up with a good answer to his simple little statement. Well... she thought it was good anyway, this didn't happen too often considering she wasn't exactly the smartest cookie. "I have come to see that there is no right or wrong choice. If I choose to ignore your question, you could kill me. But then, you will never get an answer, would you, 'sir'" She said, pointing toward him as she did so thus emphasising her point even further. The 'sir' part was hardly audible either, she was just being nice. Well... Not nice, more like a forced niceness upon a man who didn't deserve such a thing.

Abigale nodded her head before continuing, "Then again... if I do agree to tell you such a thing... you could kill me anyway, thus leaving me dead and lonely in a world I know nothing of..." She prodded her chin again thinking of how she should go on with this conversation. It was a rather hard thing for her, considering she hadn't come across anyone who had known of her 'key' powers before. Beckett, meanwhile, had come to the realisation that he needed to be tactful in order to gain the information, but perhaps she would be willing to give it to him.. for a price; as always.

"And what is it that makes you assume I would kill you if you do not tell me?" Beckett believed her politeness was most likely just a façade, because, although her tone did not sound spiteful, she most certainly didn't seem to _want_ to be conversing with him. That was quite understandable, really, but she didn't have any choice, and should therefore make the most of the situation at hand. "I would not be so proud of your smart remarks – no matter how 'good' the trait is -, Miss Dean. I would consider who it is that has the ability to set you free before requesting an accord if I were in your current situation."

"I assume you would kill me, considering there has to be someone else after me. How do I know this? You can't be the kind of fellow that would just pick up a girl from the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason. And what use am I to you?" She started, turning around to look at the window again before placing her clenched fist to the bottom of her chin. "This is more than likely a matter that would be none of your business, sir." She replied, turning around again to meet his gaze

Beckett didn't reply, but instead chose to allow the silence to give an adequate response. She knew the answer to her question already; she knew _exactly _how much use she was to him. To a lot of people.

"Hrmm..." Abigale thought, walking toward the bars closer this time. She did want to get out of here dearly... It was too cold. "It's just too cold to talk I am afraid. Maybe you will just be forced to let me out, and then I may be forced to tell you all I know." She whimpered sadly at the end.

This situation seemed even both ways, because Beckett could keep her locked up for as long as necessary (in other words, as long as he desired, regardless of whether or not he got the information), yet she did have the information that he wanted. It was doubtful in his mind that there would be an even compromise.

"Although your request might be so very tempting, I don't think that is quite the negotiation _I_ was looking for, Miss Dean." His tone was somewhat flat, as though he were simply stating the blunt truth, which it was… in some way, because, no, that wasn't the sort of compromise he was looking for, not at all.

The thing was, despite the fact that Beckett doubted her honesty, Abigale always stuck to her word. She would most likely tell him, as long as she could go free or something of more importance. The thoughts were coming to her now... She could ask of anything, he seemed to really want to know the information that she carried with her. And she was the only one who knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Notes: **Yeah, you all know it by now. Nothing belongs to us.. Belongs to Disney and the writers and associated companies, all besides our own characters.

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Abigale leant against the bars once more, this time her back facing toward Beckett. She didn't like being so... defenseless at a time like this. There truly was nothing she could do... She could tell that he liked it too. But who wouldn't? He was in power of her, indeed he was. She hated people being in control of her.

"And why are you not obliged to accept my request? It is obvious now that _you_ even think it is too cold down here." She started, shaking her head grimly. "And it would only be courteous if you at least took me out of here, because I certainly won't talk if you keep me up in this dump. I am not cold-blooded after all." She said, turning around to face him once again.

"I am not about to comment on the temperature of the jailhouse, for I'm not the one spending my rather valuable time here upon the request of others." He responded. Jailhouses weren't intended to be comfortable, no, they were meant to be the complete opposite, and so the warmth (or lack thereof) should be expected. What with the stone walls, and the limited sunshine and all. As she turned to face him, though, Beckett simply said, "And I would say that it would be courteous of you to respond to my enquiries, rather than attempt to work your way out of doing just that."Abigale let her arms rest up on the bars this time. She thought about what she was about to say next... She didn't want to sound desperate, it just wasn't her. But she knew it was the only way he would allow it. "Look... sir... I can't stand it down here, I don't care, just please, take me out of this cell and I guarantee I will tell you anything that you wish of me" She stated, turning rather serious. This was how much Abigale hated the cold. She would never stoop down this low as to tell someone such as himself her secret.

The only problem that Beckett could currently foresee with this request was that, once she wasn't confined any more, it would be substantially easier for her to run off and 'escape'; but he supposed that, if necessary, he would just have to ensure that there was somebody watching her at all times and that she was to be thrown back into the cell as soon as any one thing went wrong. The more he thought about it, though, the less appealing that particular option seemed to become.

And so, Beckett decided to point it out, "You see, the problem with that guarantee is that it is not all that hard to go back on your word, and, considering that you are the one behind bars...I would say that it would be in your best interest to do as I instruct, rather than the other way around." Abigale simply frowned at this reply. This wasn't what she intended at all. Oh how she yearned to swear at this formidable being, he definitely wasn't one to like.

"Fine then, do as you please. You will not be getting any such words from my mouth". She almost spat, turning around and folding her arms to look out of the window again. There were many more words Abigale wanted to say to him, and not only to fill the silence that had now momentarily arisen... but it was frowned upon most likely. He was the only person that could possibly rid her of this cold cell. And give her food. She had already gone a few days without food to be perfectly honest, considering she was busy going from island to island, port to port."I'm not some dim-witted pirate" She started again, frowning at the word - 'pirate' - she had just spoken. She hated pirates, her mother had always told her of them. How they stole, killed people that stood in their way. It was all so stupid. "I... am _not_... definitely. I do not go back on my word; of course maybe you wouldn't understand this. I would rather be known as a proper young lady - someone to trust." She grimaced, turning at him again, her fists clenched. "But of course you would know nothing of this. You are a heartless man. I have no time for people such as you".

"I did not say that you were a pirate." He retorted. "Anybody is perfectly capable of going back on their word, regardless of how much they assure you that they are perfectly reasonable." Her words didn't seem to change his expression in a very obvious manner, besides the almost unnoticeable look of annoyance that flickered through his eyes for a second.

Abigale then turned around again and sat down on the small wooden seat that had been provided and sat down with a 'thump'. She was angry at this ass. She truly was. "Good day."

"Well now you shall have ample time to ponder over your unintelligible decision." Abigale's eyes flickered upward as Beckett spoke this and then turned to leave; at least now she'd be alone and happy.

"I suppose I will..." She whispered, looking down to her feet with a frown. She hadn't been in a jail before, and it wasn't like she had wanted to ever be in one.This made her question her situation. Why had he captured her and locked her up in a dirty old cell..? It would have been much more genuine to ask of it at first. Sure, she swore an oath not to tell anyone of it, but it was very clear that he didn't know much about all of this. Thus being why he had asked her. "I will see you tomorrow then, hopefully, sir." She said, smiling slightly at her words, she then turned back to look out of the window, holding onto the bars once more. At these departing words, Beckett turned on his heel and walked down the corridor and up the stairs toward the sunlight. As expected, there was indeed another man stationed outside the jailhouse, one of particular importance this time – James Norrington. Well, now Admiral James Norrington to be most precise.

It shouldn't be assumed that Beckett truly trusted the man, not after the last escapade, at least. The only decent thing Beckett had witnessed him do was bring him the heart which, of course, had warranted some form of reward. Luckily for him, Norrington's request had been simple enough; to retrieve his job _with_ a promotion. This, though, would be a good way to ensure that he could place at least a decent amount of trust in him in the future.

And so, he gave a simple nod to Norrington as he passed him, before continuing on his way down the cobblestone streets toward what appeared to be his rather luxurious house. Well what else could you expect for a Lord? One hand behind his back, the other in the pocket of his thick blue coat, Norrington quickly walked down the stone staircase and toward one of the final cells in the jailhouse. He knew just as much as anybody else about this particular woman. Nothing. _Absolutely nothing_.

Hearing the approaching footsteps of another man, Abigale's gaze lifted. He wore the same kind of uniform as that Beckett man. This was enough for her to distrust him already. Although she was taught not to judge people by appearances, this was a rather big exception. She had met no person willing to earn her trust that wore that navy-blue uniform. She despised it almost.

As he approached the cell, Norrington's hand moved from behind his back and he slipped it between the bars. Apparently they were just wide enough to allow room for a hand holding an apple, such as now, but definitely not large enough to allow anybody _out_ of the cell."I suppose you're at least a little hungry." He stated simply.

She looked at the apple, and then quickly got to her feet and moved quickly toward it. James noticed the grateful smile that flickered across Abigale's face for a second before it quickly turned to one of distrust. Folding her arms across her chest, she said with a hint of anger in her voice, "For all I know it could be poisoned."

"You could have poisoned it with something that would make me tell the truth about my situation!" She pointed accusingly. She had no idea what she was talking about but this is what starvation and cold weather did to her. She sighed at the thought of being poisoned. "But then again... I... am... Rather hungry... and cold. Can't forget cold." She nodded sadly. It appeared that Abigale was willing to whine about this to her death. Norrington, on the other hand, didn't seem to care that she had refused the food he so kindly offered her. And so he slowly pulled his hand back from the bars and slipped the apple back into his pocket.

"Life isn't a fairy tale." He stated simply, gaze slipping from Abigale and along to the roof as he finished speaking. Norrington continued to inspect the woman's current living situation in momentary silence. Gaze returning to Abigale, he finished smoothly, "Poisoned apples belong in foolish stories that children believe."

Continuing to look at him rather warily, Abigale stood and approached the bars once more. Wrapping her fingers around the cold metal she appeared to begin to take interest in what Norrington was offering. After all, what else _did _she have? Nothing! The only thing she could do was beg... and that was still better than not getting anything at all. "Okay then..." She said, motioning around in his direction a little bit. "Seeming as this is apparently nothing other than real life, may I please have the apple?" Abigale smiled as she asked but wasn't quite sure why. Possibly because it was just polite to do so. Yes, that was it.

As Abigale spoke, Norrington's thoughts began to wander slightly as to why it was that this woman was in prison. And why Lord Beckett was seemingly taking so much interest in her. She couldn't be in possession of something material, otherwise Lord Beckett would have simply found some way to take it from her surely, so it had to be something... else. Was it worth finding out though? He had not been ordered to find out information, so perhaps this was a bad idea. Risking his job and the like. And, after discovering exactly what it was to live the life of piracy Norrington wasn't particularly intending on reliving it once more. Not if he had a choice in the matter, at least.

Even if it wasn't apparent, she was rather annoyed by his answer. She always seemed to be stuck with people who didn't talk much, or if they did, it was always logical matters of which they spoke of. Motioning toward his pocket she added, "Just so you know, it isn't normal of me to stoop this low but I do not plan on dying so young."

These words appeared to bring Norrington back to the present, and his hand strayed back toward his pocket, retrieving the apple from the depths of his coat. He turned the green fruit once over in his hand – it wouldn't be the best thing to relieve hunger, but it would be better than nothing. And 'nothing' was, no doubt, what Lord Beckett intended on giving Abigale. And perhaps this would get him on her good side... Why he would want this, though, wasn't even clear to James, let alone to anyone else. Taking a small step forward, Norrington put his hand through the bars, the apple resting atop his palm. Abigale smiled as the apple moved back into her line of sight; at least this man was kinder than Beckett. "No, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Norrington responded in regards to Abigale's comment about early death. "That isn't to say that real life isn't crueler than fairy tales." Norrington added almost absentmindedly, green eyes surveying the cell before, as always, returning to the woman's face.

As he spoke, she reached forward and took the apple from his hand. She remained silent for a moment as she polished the apple with her hands a little bit. Abigale was one for perfection, and therefore liked shiny apples... there wasn't any more to it to be perfectly honest. Moving back toward the wooden bench, Abigale sat down and took a bite out of the apple. It appeared to be enough to keep her happy [and silent – only for a moment of course.

"Real life is cruel in any way possible. Especially considering the situation I am in, it is very cruel." She finally began to respond. Once it appeared that Abigale was satisfied with his offering, Norrington took a step back – this time larger than before, distancing himself further from the prisoner. She was right, he thought. In his experience, life seemed to grasp every single opportunity to ruin itself for him. What with the whole Elizabeth thing, and then that ridiculous pirate. He wasn't going to dwell on that now, though, in this sort of situation one wouldn't want to come across as being weak or inexperienced. And Mr. Norrington here was neither.

As he stood back, Abigale swallowed the piece of apple; she looked directly into his eyes. "What is even more cruel, is how I let my guard down. I was captured, and then brought here. That is the cruelest of all life's dealings." She nodded in agreement to herself. She really couldn't believe how she was captured... It just wasn't right.

After a few more moments she finished the green apple, before rising to her feet to throw the core out the barred window_. '__Maybe it will grow into an a__pple tree by the time I get out of here...'_ She thought to herself instantly _'No, no, it won't.'_ Norrington observed this; apparently the apple had been satisfying enough for her – for the moment at least. That was somewhat encouraging though, at least she hadn't demanded some three-course-dinner or something of the like. "This isn't the cruelest possible outcome," He responded, interrupting both his own and Abigale's thoughts. "There are many more things that could be measured worse... considering."He paused momentarily, before saying, "Might I ask your name?" This request was different to his other comments, and, although it didn't sound intrusive or even like a short comment tacked onto the end of a statement, it didn't _sound _exceedingly unusual.

"I am Abigale Dean. And you?" She asked, bowing slightly as she voiced her name, and then returning to normal stance, wandering over to the bars to meet him face-to-face again. Nodding slightly as though to acknowledge her response – the name did appear to suit her after all – he replied, "Admiral James Norrington."

After these long-awaited formalities, Abigale's thoughts drifted back to the conversation at hand. His words could have been correct if they had been applied to anybody else. "Fair enough." Perhaps the words he spoke applied to himself? He certainly was different to most men that she had encountered previously... Most were either sex-driven or demanding assholes. Beckett being the latter. This one had more knowledge than Beckett it seemed. She couldn't be certain on this, but just the way he acted. She could tell a lot from somebody's eyes. This is how she acted to people too; she could tell he was kind... Even if he hadn't shown _true_ kindness to her as of yet, the apple escapade was enough for her.

But Beckett had been the one to send him here.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. A lot of the fic has already been written, but it turns out that a decent sized chunk was missing so some has to be re-written.

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Likening Norrington to Beckett was probably like comparing a corgi to a wolf. Both were, technically, something similar, but there were complete and utter differences. Some weren't so obvious, whilst others were extremely noticeable. Apparently, though, Abigale had taken note of the more subtle difference. This one being kindness. Norrington didn't try to flaunt whatever amount of kindness he managed to withhold, not in the least, if anything he usually tried to hide it. In this particular profession you had to be cruel and merciless – some had taken it to the extreme. Lord Beckett, for example.

It didn't appear that Abigale was terribly worried about the silence that had coated the air once more, even if it was a slightly uncomfortable one; if only for the reason that there was a stretch of metal bars between them. "You're manners are quite refined. Considering where we are. I must say, it is quite a rare occurrence to have somebody such as yourself locked up in here." The comment didn't seem to serve much purpose other than to cut through the momentary silence, although the air in which it was said could imply that the thoughts attached were malicious – even though his expression ensured that it couldn't be _assumed_.

Norrington wasn't quite sure whether the small chuckle he received in response was positive or not, but he supposed it didn't really matter anyway. _'At least someone could see it.'_ She thought. It seemed that nobody else really cared of how she acted, if she was supposed to be in here or if she deserved otherwise. This Norrington guy... He was nice. Abigale liked him. She couldn't see how he could be an Admiral though - even in the Navy. From what she had seen they had to be tough and merciless, or, well, that was what she had witnessed from her experience at least.

For a second it appeared that the air became colder, and Abigale glanced up toward the cell window, but because of her seated position couldn't even see anything beyond it. She crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to retain some more warmth, but this wasn't to much effect. Norrington didn't seem to notice this chilliness, though, but that was simply due to the heavy coat that adorned his torso. It wasn't a very good thing to wear in the hot climate of the Caribbean the majority of the time, but it was useful when the weather was cool – granted, that was still a rather rare occurrence.

"Refined..." She repeated, smiling very slightly. "I suppose you could be right about that." She said, stretching slightly and breathing in deep, trying to keep herself awake. "I bet it is rare to have anyone locked in here who isn't a dirty staling pirate then, 'ey?" She asked, looking up to him with a questioning gaze. Abigale despised pirates; they went against all her own ethics - to be respectful, courteous, so on and so forth. "And I am definitely not a pirate. You can count on that one, Admiral Norrington."

The way that she spoke about said pirates did have a slight affect on James, though. No matter how much he despised pirates, something still told him that they weren't as bad as had always been made out to be. The fact that Elizabeth had become one, though, probably had quite a lot to do with it. This only seemed to prompt him to fall silent for a second, but, realising that he had allowed his mind to wander yet again, he (rather hurriedly) said, "Well then you have not been forced into here for piracy, that much is clear. Therefore I would say that it is quite safe to assume that you won't be meeting the noose any time soon."

These words prompted a smirk from Abigale this time as she rose to her feet once more. She stood at the door to the cell, her fingers fumbling around the bars as her gaze shifted back to Norrington. _Now _she knew _exactly _what was going on. And instead of her being in the trap it was Abigale who had trapped him. "So this is your game, Admiral." She said, looking straight at him, her smirk was now slightly lesser, but still apparent. "You are trying to see why I have been placed into this god-forsaken jail, aren't you?"

Abigale seemed to pick things up out of sentences, and read people like a book. Although this time, it did take longer than normal, she still got it. She didn't know how exactly seeming as he was very good at hiding it, but that comment made it very noticeable of his task at hand. This was when Norrington realised that he had taken the wrong route in conversation. His gaze remained fixed on her as he responded, "An unintended 'game' might I add." He paused for a second before continuing, "Considering the fact that I would rather not risk my job for an answer to a mere enquiry or two... regardless of how much those answers suffice."

As the woman turned back around to face the small square of light filtering past the bars, Norrington's gaze followed and took note of the sun casting shadows on her rather thin figure. She might be correct in thinking that what he had said was a sad excuse at an attempt to gain an answer or two, but what his motives were could easily be misinterpreted. That was most likely due to the fact that, yet again, he wasn't even entirely certain himself. Of course, if those answers were useful enough they could, like most things, prove to be a powerful bargaining tool. Those sorts of things (material or immaterial) seemed to work well with Beckett. The man wasn't interested in expensive and grand objects (such as The Black Pearl, for instance) but was, apparently, more prone to concentrating on those things that could be of power. James apparently had a knack for finding such things.

'_Unintended...'_ "Admiral, to be honest, I do not care of how you tried to seek answers from me. It is only natural to be curious of such things..." She started, still trying to come up with an even smarter reply. "Only thing is, I would not tell you in fear of you telling Beckett. I am not willing to give up to him." Abigale added. Then she began to move, pacing across the cell, backward and forward. Norrington did not speak up yet however, considering that he had a feeling that Abigale was going to say more. It seemed that his inkling was correct, as only a second later she spoke up again.

"Beckett is the last person I would ever tell of such things. I do not care if I am in here until I die, I will not tell him. Thus being why I won't tell you anything either." She said, nodding, as she walked over to stand in front of him behind the bars again. "Of course, except for what I almost just told you then, Admiral. That is acceptable. You don't know full details; all you know is that there is something of which Beckett needs me for. And it is more than that of normal being." She added, quite satisfied at how her answer had come about.

Norrington didn't appear to mind that Abigale spoke so much, although it was only for the reason that he was able to use her voice as a distraction from his own cluttered thoughts. And, to save himself from wandering back into said thoughts, James immediately responded. "As I said – I am not intending to lose my job over this. Bringing you that apple," His hand appeared from behind his back to motion toward the window where she had thrown the core. "Was probably enough to cost me my job – possibly more. What you desire to keep from Lord Beckett is, incidentally, none of my business... currently." The last word apparently slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it, going by the way that it seemed to have just managed to string itself onto the end of his sentence. He was actually beginning to doubt whether or not having his job back was a good thing... 'Yes, of course it is.' the affirming thought quickly pushed itself into his mind.

Abigale nodded understandably at this, though. She understood his place in this. She understood why he said what he did instead of putting his own word in on it. He was most likely worried that she would tell Beckett. Why she would tell him anything, she really had no proper idea, but that was none of her business either to be precise.

Quickly recovering from the surprise word, he continued, "Nothing good comes from those who prove to be deceptive to the East India Trading Company. Or, simply, Lord Beckett. Withholding information probably warrants the same fate. Truthfully? I do not know what he wants from you, and therefore have no idea whatsoever exactly how valuable whatever it is that you possess is. You, though, have a sensible problem with trusting people. Understandable."

Abigale yawned slightly as Norrington's words drifted off into silence; her hand was placed over her mouth as she stretched slightly. Most people would take that as an offence, but she really didn't mean it... She hadn't slept for 24 hours about, maybe that's dramatising it slightly, but she hadn't slept for a while. "Excuse me..." She said quietly, rubbing her face to keep her eyes open. It only took her a moment or so to get back to the conversation at hand. "The apple... Would that really be enough to cost you your job..?" She asked out of sheer curiosity. Beckett was worse than she had thought... Would he really go as far as starving her to death, and then her being dead so he never got anything out of her anyway?

"That would depend," He responded in question to the apple. "But, yes, it most likely would." That statement was truthful too; he wouldn't be surprised if he was forced from his position in the navy just for giving Abigale an apple. After all, Lord Beckett didn't trust him as it was; doing something that he knew had a high probability of having a negative outcome would, most likely, only make things worse in the end.

It seemed that Abigale was thinking along these same lines, well that was what her next words implied at least. "Why do you even want to be a part of this organisation? Be under a man who kills people just for talking to pirates, apparently, but why? You seem nice, why go out of your way to be nasty and cruel?" She was so confused now. It was partly her fault, though, she supposed. "I do have problems with trusting people. I am a person of which thinks that people should earn trust. Yet I can be deceived easily too..." She trailed off, deeper in thought than normal this time around.

This question resulted in a rather odd silence from Norrington, only for a moment though. "Everybody," He began finally, "has their reasons for one thing or another and those particular reasons are not always ones that they would be inclined to share with others such as yourself." In the pause in his words, it seemed that what Abigale had said before caught up with him. 'Nice'. Norrington thought himself fair (in the traditional sense of the word) at any rate, as he gave those who deserved it a decent chance to explain themselves and others (such as pirates) didn't get much of a chance to speak for their defense at all when he was placed in charge of the situation like he had been many times before. But it seemed that people were quick to assume he was as cutthroat and merciless as Beckett, such as Abigale had before – but they did have valid reasoning behind such an assumption. _'Back on track.'_

"Trust and deception are both things to consider at all times," Norrington began again, "They are powerful and destructive... depending." At that point, he turned to face her again. "And once you place your trust into someone that's final." Although, by the way that he was speaking, it wasn't clear if he was talking about this particular situation, trust in general, or even something that had happened prior to this particular conversation. "Therefore you chose the consequences of that trust, too – good or bad."

Abigale decided now that she wanted to get the weight off of her chest. She hated it, truly did. Her secret; about her being the 'key', about how her life was already planned out through destiny before her birth... She was too far emotionally now to stop herself from telling him.

"I have never had a choice in who to trust. Never. Not since I was born." She began, her sleepy gaze turning back to look Norrington straight in the eyes. "I am set to die soon." She then said rather bluntly, her gaze focusing on her fingers as they once again wrapped around the metal bars. "After my 26th birthday... I will die of an illness, any illness it doesn't matter. Heart Attack, cancer... anything... I will not see my 27th year." She said unhappily. She hadn't told anyone before. Yet she had never been in a situation such as this either...

Norrington remained silent throughout this, not wanting to say anything in case Abigale was about to give him more information regarding this... this... whatever it was. And it seemed that she _was_ going to say just one more thing. "It is all because of this knowledge I possess. I am a 'key' as they called it..." She finished, trailing off on thought now as she turned around, her back facing Norrington again.


	4. Chapter 4  Part I

**A/N: **Sorry guys for the lack of updating. . My computer crashed, and I had to get everything backed up.. Then I lost the backed up disc with the file on it. This was the first attempt at organising this chapter, and it's by no means not the best way it could have been done, but I didn't want to have to wait any longer to upload it in case I forgot again. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it and manage to sit through the disorganisation. For future reference too the '--' are an easy way to indicate the setting changes. Although you should be able to get that by reading the characters who are in that part. Anyway, enough of my rambling.

* * *

"I take it that Beckett's tactics would be of no use in that case." Was James' immediate response – and that, in fact, was quite a valid one. After all, if Beckett really was just planning on leaving her in this cell to rot the woman might get a fever and pass within weeks, days, even, without saying a word to her captor. That was if he didn't know about Abigale's predicament [the one that had absolutely _nothing _to do with Beckett at least... 

From there the conversation tapered down to less important things. Not just menial formalities by any means, but certainly nothing noteworthy. That was until a guard suddenly appeared beside James. It seemed as though neither of them had really noticed his approach until this moment that he came in view, and then both their gaze moved toward him. "Come to relieve you of your duties, Admiral." The man said, looking slightly uncomfortable under the looks both people were giving him.

Without speaking, Norrington gave a curt nod, although it wasn't clear whether it was to Abigale or the guard. It was most likely the former, but for courtesy's sake it may as well have been both. He didn't look back as he walked down the corridor and up the stone stairs out into the sunlight. Norrington headed to his office, intending on working on some of the papers that probably should have been done that morning.

Beckett, on the other hand, was heading away from his own office and toward the jailhouse. He had just been alerted by one of the guards who, after 'overhearing' ["it was hardly eavesdropping!" Not likely that Lord Beckett would care if it was anyway various parts of Abigale and Norrington's conversation rushed to the man's office. Halfway through his walk toward the jail, a youth stumbled across his path.

The boy seemed to suddenly realise who it was that he had _almost _run into as he suddenly stopped in his tracks and stammered, "S-s-sorry!" Before quickly moving out the way. Despite the fact that most of the children in Port Royale were rather wary [to say the least upon being in Lord Beckett's presence, the direction in which this particular boy was staring was not just an avoiding look. No, he was looking directly toward something. Namely the docks.

"Where are you going?" Beckett asked, his gaze following the boy's. That was when the tall black masts of an unmistakable pirate ship came into view.

"The docks." The boy answered quickly, deciding it best not to lie to this man. "The Black Pearl arrived!" And, ducking his head, he rushed off again. Beckett called out after him, though, and so the youth turned back around, although this time he was looking up at the man with a reasonably nervous look on his face. "Yes?"

"Go to Admiral Norrington's office and tell him to get down to the docks." And with that Beckett moved swiftly back in the direction of the jailhouse once more.

--

Trusting that the young lad had indeed done what he had asked (okay, not so much asked or requested as demanded) Lord Beckett walked down the stone corridor to the guard stationed outside the jailhouse. Thankfully he hadn't moved to go down to the docks yet, and so Beckett instructed him to get Abigale out of her cell and instead lock her in Admiral Norrington's office with assistance from the other guard inside. He was not about to risk having a notorious pirate within any close proximity with the already frustrated Abigale.

And with that, Beckett turned on his heel and headed back in the opposite direction. There was paperwork to be done, and no doubt something to fill out as evidence, aside from the warrants, for Jack to be sent to the gallows. Not that it mattered, really, considering how it was quickly becoming apparent that the man could basically do whatever the hell he liked. That was if the mass-hangings were any indication toward anything..

The man that Beckett had instructed to remove Abigale from her cell walked down the corridor toward the other man still guarding. Upon seeing the other man, the one standing outside of Abigale's cell took a step away from the bars. "Who's this woman here anyway?" The first asked, but the second quickly snapped back in a hushed tone, "Lord Beckett said her name was Miss Dean."

The first to have spoken only seemed to have found the other's answer quite indignant because his next words were, "Well I did hear that, I'm not deaf. I meant why is she he-" But his words were cut off as they reached the cell and looked at the woman inahibiting it. Hopefully she would go without a fight.

Abigale was staring out the window, from here she could see the large, dark, ship approaching the shore. What was Jack thinking? Was he really that stupid to dock there with guards and soldiers milling about everywhere? What was he planning on doing; just randomly waltz in the place and demand of something? Beckett deffinatly wasn't that willing. He would surely have him locked up in here, most likely then to manipulate something out of him, and then have him sent to be hung.

The sound of the guards stopping at her cell though, caught Abigale's attention and she then turned to face them. Quickly picking her long dress up to walk over to the bars she looked at the two men that stood before her. "Are you here to take me to some place more appealing than this?" Her words were rather stern, and hopeful all the same. Maybe Beckett had softened up, and let her have her wishes. She wasn't sure but she wa shoping that this was the case. Anywhere but here in a cold, damp jail cell would be more appealing. Well... Anywhere but the walls of a cold, damp Pirate jail cell anyway.

--

Meanwhile, Norrington was sitting at his desk in his reasonably sized office, shuffling papers about and appearing somewhat interested in them. That was until a loud 'knock' on the door cut through his thoughts. Placing the papers he had been reading back down on the desk, he called for the person on the other side of the door to enter the room. As he did so the door was pushed open, the hinges creaking as a young man hastily rushed into the room. "Lord Beckett says for you to go down to the docks, Admiral-sir. The Black Pearl is here, and Jack Sparrow appears to be intending on stopping in Port Royale."

Giving the boy an oddly expressionless look, James immediately responded, "Do not let them allow Sparrow off of the docks." And motioned for the lad to leave. Doing as instructed as quickly as he had been to follow Lord Beckett's request, he quickly shut the door and rushed off again.

Reaching forward to grab at one of the desk's brass handles, he wrenched open a drawer and grabbed a rolled up piece of paper before pushing the drawer shut and leaving the room. Ensuring that he shut the door behind him, James immediately rushed off toward the docks.

As the grand ship that was the Black Pearl approached the shore, Norrington prepared himself for yet another encounter with the intolerable pirate.

Captain Jack Sparrow held his slender dirty fingers on the wheel of the Pearl, showing that he had -his- boat, with pride of course. "Man the anchors!" His voice bellowed to his crew. The crew quickly jumped at the chance and set down the anchor with ease. Jack Sparrow was now stationed at the dock of Port Royale.

Stepping hastily from the wheel down the_ Black Pearl's_ steps, and meeting up with Gibbs by his side, his hands set themselves on his hips. He was here again, and of course making an entrance. His meetings had to be remembered, after-all. Why wouldn't the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow want the chance to be heard of? Everyone had to know of him. And his boat. Ship, actually. Ship.

"Well, Gibbs," He said proudly, looking at the guards building up at the shore, their 'mighty' guns in hand. Jacks hand wandered to Gibbs back and patted it, whilst his other then spread out, pointing to the shore before them. "I do believe we have reached our destination! Am I not correct?" He asked, hands now by his sides and looking at Gibbs for his reply.

Gibbs was certainly confused as to why Jack would want to dock here, at a place were he most certainly wasn't welcome. Yet, he had always pretty much gone with any of Jack's other plans. Most of them coming out to their advantage, working out fine in the end. "Aye, Cap'n." He answered simply, not going into detail of how weird he found this situation to be.

--

The more robust of the two guards was the first to address Abigale as she approached them. "In fact we are, Miss," He said rather proudly, as though he were now quite happy to have the job. Perhaps it was the fact that now he had set eyes on the woman, he realised that she was most certainly not the epitome of a pirate. "Lord Beckett says we are to take you to Admiral Norrington's office." That was when the other guard sharply nudged him in the ribs and also spoke up. "Are you sure that's where she's meant to go? Seems a bit strange, doesn't it?" The first guard then gave him a somewhat unimpressed look and retorted, "Yes, I'm sure! What Lord Beckett decides is his own business."

Abigale raised her eyebrow at the bickering guards. To be perfectly honest she had no idea why anybody would trust these two to do, well, _anything. _At least she was getting out of here, though! That was something to be thankful for at least.

Both of them then turned back to look at Abigale, apparently having momentarily forgot about them during their minor argument. Producing a set of shackles from his coat pocket, the guard that always seemed to speak first held them out toward the other. "Let me open the cell, don't want her to get away." He said, seemingly implying that the other had made many a mistake in the past. "Now hurry up and get her out."

"Well that is much appreciated," She said happily. Even if she was questioning why it was exactly she was to be sent to somebody's office.. "But shackles..?" She trailed off, pointing to them. "I am sure there is no need for something such as them. After all, I am a woman. It would seem rather rude to do something as that." She nodded and both guards looked apprehensively at each other. Shackles were mandatory, were they not? There had to be a reason for her to be locked away anyway. "Or would you rather bruise my delicate wrists?" Abigale then added, as though putting shackles on her was a terrible, terrible, deed.

"She has a point, you know." The thinner guard said, lowly, as though not really wanting to state the fact. For good reason, apparently, given the other's response.

"Yes, but she's in jail. Has to be a reason for it, don't there?" But the only thing he got from that was a reply of a thoughtful 'hmm'. Not very helpful at all! And so, the more demanding of the duo fished a set of keys from his pocket before shoving the (amazingly correct) key into the lock and turning it. Before he could give Abigale the chance to move anywhere, though, he stepped forward and grabbed Abigale by the wrist – clearly intending on shackling her right that moment before she had much chance to escape. Abigale didn't appear to appreciate this in the least, for a frown quickly graced her face and it was clear that she was considering yelling out something horrid in regards to what the men were doing to her. With much exaggeration on Abigale's part, of course.

But, instead, she stuck with speaking directly toward him, in a rather indignant tone, mind you. "Excuse me! But do you treat all woman like this?" Abigale said, pulling her hand away from him as she did so. "Surely you would be more respectable than to grab a woman so relentlessly! You should be ashamed!" Her gaze flickered downward as she began to rub at her wrist.

--

During this time that Abigale had seemingly forgotten of the arrival of the Black Pearl, James Norrington had managed to make his way toward the docks. At this point in time he wasn't terribly worried at capturing the man – although the fact that he had so blatantly arrived here in Port Royal was certainly suspicious...

Taking his position on the shore with the rest of the men, James observed the large ship. It wouldn't be all that hard to notice the Admiral, considering his uniform. Not to mention the fact that out of all the guards he was the one that Jack had encountered more often than not. And then there he was, making his way down onto the dock – Jack Sparrow. The pirate's gaze moved around the landscape, making it obvious that he was looking for somebody in particular.

"James!" He cried, walking out toward the guards only to be greeted by their mighty guns pointed in his direction. "Here I thought we were goin' to have a friendly reunion, and this is how your ol' pirating buddy is greeted?" He said slyly, waving his arms around to emphasise most of his words. James merely gave a rather disgusted look at the way the way that he was acting – undoubtedly intoxicated – and quickly motioned to the guards standing nearest Jack. At this motion they immediately raised their weapons. Jack, seeming unfazed, continued. "I am sure you are delighted to see me, savvy?" As he said it, he reached out to tap the tip of one of the guns with his index finger.

"Quite a pity we were unable to cross paths sooner." James responded in a rather dry tone.

Jack smirked slightly at this. "A pity indeed," He nodded, stepping toward Norrington. Since he really wasn't posing a threat, though, they did not move from there spot. Maybe a small step but that was about it. "Although, it is noticeable that the Admiral is pleased to see me" Jack nodded. "Putting on a show like this? Surely not many other people would have the pleasure?"

Already becoming tired by the pirate's antics, he held a pair of rusted shackles up toward the light slightly, having taken them a moment before from one of the guards standing around. "Why you're here shouldn't be questioned, the thing is that you are, ready for arrest. You're quite aware of your warrants, after all." He paused, before continuing, "And, no, not everybody would be met with this reception. But not everybody insists on being as idiotic to break the laws as you do. I do suggest that we not waste anymore time, considering the fact that the Royal Navy does have much more important things to attend to."

"And yet!" He said, his hand waving up in the air, pointing to the air for some reason. "It seems as though we have different thoughts toward the jail. Savvy?" He paused for a mere second, before adding absentmindedly, "Should've dressed up for this occasion.." This comment was only received by a slight roll of the eyes from Norrington, who couldn't care less whether Jack thought it was a suitable occasion to 'dress up' for.

"And here I was hoping that you were sensible enough by now to go without a fight."

"Mate, if you really knew Captain Jack Sparrow, you would know that I never go down without a fight," He said, shaking his head. "After-all, I couldn't go without me rum, savvy?" He added quickly, turning back to the Pearl and over-exaggerating his pointing at it. He had made sure that his boat had heaps of rum on it. The crew, and mostly himself, would not have it any other way.

"I know you, Jack Sparrow, well enough to expect idiotic acts at any rate. And resisting arrest is most certainly one of those acts." He paused, before continuing, "I do suggest that we not waste anymore time, considering the fact that the Royal Navy does have much more important things to attend to." James was met with an unappreciative chuckle from Jack at this.

Jack's immediate thoughts toward this was simply_, 'Important things... Like what? Catch more pirates and have them put to death by the noose? ' _And yet he gave no response, quite obviously feeling that it was obvious what he thought about this remark. Norrington didn't seem to notice, or care, about Jack'smomentary silence, and instead reached into his pocket and pulled out the roll of paper he had grabbed from his desk draw. Allowing it to roll flat from his hand, Norrington glanced at the writing on the top of the parchment, before peeling it away from the second sheet, rolling it up and shoving it back into his pocket. "That's the right one.." He seemed to say under his breath to himself, before raising his voice and saying, "Warrants for your arrest, Mister Sparrow."

Motioning toward the guard closest to Jack, with his hand, the guard seemed to quickly leap forward and produce a pair of shackles from behind his back. "Clap him in irons, his rum can wait. Surely there's enough supply in hell, purgatory, or wherever else it is he is deserving of to visit." Norrington spoke up again, this time toward the other uniformed man. Jack, however, decided to ignore this little statement about his precious rum.

"Norrington, I surely am flattered, but would I be incorrect to bring up how you were a pirate.." He paused, before continuing quickly, "A scallywag, such as myself. You boarded the pearl, drank rum, we had fun! You can't forget the friendship we had!" He smiled, turning around on his heel to go back to one of the guards and looked him up and down – paying no attention to the one holding the shackles who was no staring after him dumbly. "After all, I know you missed me."


End file.
